Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
The bed started to creak faster. “Say that again.”
“Only yours.”
His groan was almost earsplitting. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
He enjoyed her body for everything it was worth and watching it happen, feeling it happen, was like an aphrodisiac. He pummeled her a while and pulled back, repositioning her legs to experience a different angle, before falling on top of her and straight fucking like an animal—and she grew painfully turned on in the unrehearsed, frantic face of it all, her nipples spiking once again, that ripple and flex reigniting between her legs. Oh. Oh. Oh my goodness. And it was like he sensed it, sensed the moment Tallulah’s second orgasm started to build, because his gaze turned sharper on her face, watching, a muscle popping in his cheek.
“Yeah. That’s right.” He trapped her jaw in his hand. “You grateful for your big motherfucker yet, gorgeous?”
“Yes,” Tallulah gasped, mentally and verbally, his confidence in her body, the way he knew just the right amount of force to use, made her feel safe and free and prized, so much so that she bit her lip and let loose, her hips smacking up against his thrusts, rigid flesh entering wet, their mouths loudly exchanging breaths while they worked themselves into a frenzy in search of that peak, that sharp, perfect, mutual peak so they could jump off together.
“Put your legs over my shoulders and let me finish rough.”
How did he make an order sound like a request for permission? She didn’t know, but his manner was so uniquely Burgess and she . . . was grateful. Grateful in so many more ways than one, because she could feel his gratitude in the air between them, in the blaze of his eyes and worship of his big body. And God, he was . . .
“So big,” she moaned, accepting his first drive after propping her calves on his shoulders, watching his features become engulfed by lust, white teeth clenched together while his hips kicked into a purposeful gallop, his angle giving her the contact she needed on top of her clit to twist the comforter in her hands and search for an exit from the breathtaking quickening, the telltale pulsing of her muscles. And that total blackout of reservations, combined with the drugging effect of Burgess, made her mouth form words that didn’t require approval from her brain. “That’s so good, it’s so good. Hurt me.”
“Never.”
“Make it hurt,” she screamed.
He hesitated. And broke. “Fuck!”
That’s when she realized he’d only been using half his strength on her—and the second half was raw and brutal and delicious. She heard the headboard crack, the groans of the bedsprings running together into one long, continuous protest, a shout stirring in his chest as he gave in to his nature and took her crudely, her body bent in half, his lips peeled back in a snarl, sweat coating his expansive chest, muscles straining.
The sight of him blew her right out of the comfort zone she didn’t even realize she’d been living in, turned her almost feral as she slashed her nails down his muscular back and orgasmed beneath his punishing body, nothing but a shaking, satisfied mess, wet heat rolling down the cheeks of her backside.
And all she wanted was to be his relief. To see him break. To be the reason for it.
With that desire blocking out every other thought in Tallulah’s head, she constricted her sex around his, drawing on all those delicate muscles and bit down on his ear. “Mean Daddy,” she whispered, and he spent inside of her, almost like she’d sucked it clean out with two single words, his Goliath form shaking her body and the entire bed with it, deafening groans releasing against her ear, and she only pressed closer, hoping the deep, growling sound of his pleasure would be the final thing she ever heard.
“Mean, so mean, so mean,” she pouted, writhing on his stiffness to rid him of those final ounces and he flattened her, pumping several more times, before collapsing, the mess they made together dripping down her inner thighs and butt—and she couldn’t have cared less. Didn’t even rustle up enough wherewithal when her head was drowsy, body sated beyond belief, and she had this warrior as her own personal blanket. “Wow,” she breathed, head spinning, the ceiling above resembling white puffy clouds.
“My God,” Burgess said hoarsely into her neck. “My God, Tallulah.”
“Yeah.”
The muscles in his shoulders bunched. “I didn’t hurt you, right? Please, I’ll—”
“I am the opposite of hurt. It was . . . I can’t . . .”
He lifted his head and hit her with so much affection, rubbing their lips together softly, slowly, that she lost the ability to breathe. “You can’t what?”
Live . . . without you.
“I can’t believe I . . . twice.”
His mouth twisted to subdue a smile and he glanced quickly to the side. “Oh yeah?”